Fedora
by began-to-climb
Summary: Outside she was Claire Bennet the Supergirl, but inside she was Claire Bennet the Orphan. Paire, please RR


**Name: **Fedora

**Rating: **PG

**Summary: **Peter left Odessa, Texas with the satisfaction that the cheerleader was safe and that she knew he was there to protect and support her. But that didn't prepare him for the crumbled young woman that showed up on his doorstep. Can she forgive the family who left her by accepting the comfort of another?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. The lyrics below are from _Its Not Over _by Chris Daughtry. By the way, did anyone see the dress Hayden wore to the Golden Globes? Oh wow, she was my favorite; can we say goddess?

**By the Way: **What's in italics are flashbacks.

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_I've taken all I can take _

_And I cannot wait _

_We're wasting too much time _

_Being strong, holding on_

_Can't let it bring us down _

Her body was rigid against his, the stiffness fitted in a possessive attachment, every tangible limb coiled around him. Her legs, clammy due to the abrupt change of climate and weather, were tangled in his, the sole of his sneaker just barely visible underneath the blanket. He'd tossed the blanket over them hours ago to warm her trembling form, to soothe her dazed expression, and now it draped across his lower half. On her, however, the tassels licked the exposed sliver of skin on her shoulder. Her left hand gripped a fistful of his shirt, the fabric scrunched between her delicate fingers, while her right hand was tucked securely against her chest, her chin resting on her knuckles, her head titled into his shoulder.

Peter Petrelli gazed down at the girl, examining the contours of her marble face. The mellifluous outlines so familiar to the public had vanished, replaced by a warm serenity, framed by loose golden curls sprinkled with white flurries. She seemed so content where she was like a newly born angel. She'd fixed herself close to him the second she'd walked through the door. She needed to be close to the man that saved her to finally feel safe; when she was with him nothing and no one could touch her. She had to face dangers, but she didn't have to do it alone any more.

He liked to see her this way, a peaceful countenance slipped onto her face while she slumbered next to him; she wasn't a super hero, but a normal teenager. '_As human beings, we're number on. We're the top species.' _Yet that didn't matter, not how normal she wanted to be. She was special, just like the rest of the group, a destiny laid our in front of her, except she had more, more to be concerned about. Outside his door, she was Claire Bennet the Supergirl, but when she'd stepped inside she was Claire Bennet the Orphan.

His lip twitched as a lock of hair fell across her eyes. Shifting slightly, he brushed it away, looping it behind her ear. She stirred, her eyelids swaying. His pallid finger traced the curves of the dried tearstains on her cheek, sliding down to caress her shoulders. Her body shuddered at the touch, neither warm nor cold, either there or not.

There was a soft knock on the door. It creaked open and Isaac Mendez poked his head inside, running a hand through his long hair and offering a weak smile. His chestnut eyes briefly settled on Claire. Peter glanced down at the girl and for a split second, he couldn't bring himself to leave her side. She was there because of him and deserting her to fend for herself for even five minutes didn't appeal to him in the slightest. He forced himself to carefully dismantle himself from her hold, releasing her clutch on his shirt and placing her hand next to her. He dragged the blanket further over her body and rolled out of the bed. He closed the door gently, cutting off view of Claire, joining the artist in the hall.

"How is she?" Isaac asked, his voice mitigated by concern for the young girl, the destined cheerleader.

_The pattering of feet of wood echoed through the still apartment, the buzz of the History Channel on the television fading into the night, as he darted to the door. He opened the door, his mouth pried open to say something to who he thought was his brother; his lips snapped shut. She didn't acknowledge him, but crinkled her lips. His eyes fell, taking in her disheveled appearance. _

Peter ran his hands over his face, rubbing away the frustration that he'd been holding in since Claire had arrived. "I don't know. She fell asleep before I could ask her anything." He paused, staring blindly at the door. "I've never seen her this…distant. Something happened and I think she's avoiding it to make it go away."

"She can't for long." Isaac frowned.

"Thanks for dropping in." Peter said after a minute, turning back to the man.

Isaac shrugged. "Not a problem. Hiro wanted to come, but…who knows what he would've done. He's worried about her too."

Peter smiled, nodding. It didn't matter how much they tried to act like men and not care about certain things, when it came to the Texan teenager that they'd saved a month and a half ago, they were like protective older brothers, pestering their little sister after one of her high school dramas. Hiro Nakamura was the worst; the small Japanese man who had recently made a permanent move to New York, moving in with Isaac so he spent time at Peter's every time his roommate visited the man, attempted with every visit to contact Claire.

Isaac squeezed Peter's shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. "Go back in. She needs a friend."

Peter nodded, biting his bottom lip, and slithered back into the bedroom. Claire now faced him, one arm looped under the pillow, the burnt yellow light radiating from the lamp creating shadows on her face. He frowned; what was she hiding? The silence that drifted in after her had surprised him. After saving her they two kept in touch by phone, had written a couple e-mails—he'd even flown down a number of times—and all that time spent with her had taught him that she wasn't the quiet type. She was loquacious, a person that knew what to say and when, able to creep out smiles and long conversations from him, even when he was reclusive. She was his friend and he was her savior.

Except she was different now; something had definitely changed. He just wished she would tell him, but all that he had were more questions.

_"Claire?" She was taciturn. He took a step outside, placing a gentle hand on her arm. She shivered. "Hey, what are you doing here?" _

Cautiously, as not to make any sound that would disturb her, he eased himself on the edge of the bed, extending his arm on the other side of her to prop him up. Claire stirred, rolling onto her back, her arm draped over her twisted stomach. Her eyelashes, long in their entirety, fluttered open, revealing those piercing eyes, sagacious beyond their years. Peter tilted his head, searching those eyes for an answer to his questions. There wasn't a solution for him, but a revelation, something that frightened him and calmed him. The impervious indestructibility was gone, now brimmed with sadness and vulnerability.

How was that?

"Claire…what happened? Why are you here?" His tone was soft, ginger. Claire's eyes quivered wildly, pleading with him. She didn't want to talk, didn't want to reveal her secret. A part of Peter knew that why she didn't want to, but that also wasn't important any longer. He leaned closer to her. "I need you to talk to me. I'm here for you, but you have to let me be."

Claire hesitated, falling heavily against the pillow, then gulped. She pulled herself up, drawing her knees to her chest, laying her chin on her hands, and gulped again. Her pink lips parted. "They left me."

Peter's brows furrowed immediately, confusion threading through his body. His mind wandered to so many possibilities. The one that stuck out the most seemed to be the most plausible. Claire looked up at him, rotating her face so her cheek rested on her hands, and saw his puzzlement. Heaving a heavy sigh, she continued. "My dad made my family forget me and they left me. All their things, all their furniture, they were gone. He took them. I came home from school and everything was gone."

"Claire…"

"There was a bag in my room…it had clothes and stuff in it, things I'd need, and there was a note. It said 'Let us forget you. Don't try to find us.' How could he do that? Abandon me." She scrunched her hands into fists as tears sprang to her eyes. She tried to keep herself pieced together, but that plan only worked for so long. "I'm his daughter. My mom, my brother—they just left. They didn't even think about me. I was so naïve to think that I could be normal after all that."

"Hey,"—Peter scooted closer to her, laying his hand on her knee, calling her attention to him—"this is not your fault."

Claire shook her head. "He tried to talk to me. He tried to tell me something. But I didn't listen. I didn't…"

A tear leaked down her cheek. Her words came out as whimpers, slipping into disorientation, transforming into inaudible confessions. Peter hugged her, grasping her to him as he forced himself to hold down the lump in his throat. Claire's hot tears wetted his neck, soaking into his shirt, but he didn't care. The people she trusted the most had left her behind. He had experience with abandonment and he knew there was no remedy for that kind of trauma and pain. That feeling of holding a broken girl in his arms, it was unreal to Peter. He never expected Super Claire, the indestructible hero, to break, let alone cry. But all objects have their weak point, unbreakable or not.

_Claire shook her head, refusing to tell him anything of what she'd endured. "Come here." She walked into his arms, dropping the duffel at her side, her small frame fitting perfectly in his body, her delicate hands tucked against his chest. He stroked her hair, the sleek curls caressing his skin. She nuzzled his neck. _

Peter drew back and cupped her chin, keeping her eyes level with his. "He did this; it has nothing to do with what you did or didn't do. It was his choice, so please don't blame yourself."

Claire nodded, accepting the comfort offered by someone she barely knew. It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last. Holding his hand tightly, she slowly let him help break down the layers of emotion, leaving the past and moving to a future.

_"I'm here." _

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**A/N: **If this story is successful, I may go ahead and add the original ending I had planned (which will explain the title).


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